


Haunted

by ScreamingViking



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Humor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4345790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamingViking/pseuds/ScreamingViking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'I will never be a memory'  Sephiroth had been right. There would always be a piece of him lurking inside Cloud's mind, but it was amazing how even the most horrific existential terror could become mundane, and given long enough, even irritating. Small snippets of Cloud's everyday life, dealing with what was left of Sephiroth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I will… never be a memory.”

Those words plagued Cloud. He knew that he would always have a piece of Sephiroth inside of him. As much as he wanted to think that a sword fight could end it, the old General was too much a part of him now to ever be cut off. There were no remaining pieces of Jenova so he couldn’t return physically, but he had enough of a foothold that Cloud knew he wasn’t alone. His mind would never solely be his.

Sephiroth had been right; he would never be a memory. A person needed to actually leave before you had the time to remember them.

It had been terrifying to begin with. He had secreted himself away from the others in case he lost control or they found out. Then months passed and it became merely unnerving. Cloud was finally bold enough to return to his life and try to outlast the General's voice.

Almost a year later it was just irritating.

 _'Is this the best you can do, Cloud?_ ’ The deep voice reverberated inside his brain, the tone of mockery and disappointment unmistakable.

“What would you know about mechanics?” Cloud scoffed, tightening the nut on his motorbike. It was nearly fixed.  He was alone in his garage so he didn’t mind answering aloud.

 _'I know that your suspension will be little more than an illusion the next time you try to land a jump.’_ The voice slithered across his mind bitingly. _‘Just what I would expect from a puppet_.’

“Oh shut up.”

_‘You will never be rid of me, Cloud.’_

He rolled his eyes.

* * *

 

_‘Why even bother trying?’_

“I have nothing to say to you.” Cloud muttered beneath his breath.

_‘Nothing but a puppet, lost without its master.’_

“I am not lost, this is a shortcut.” He spat as he pulled up at a traffic light.

 _‘You said that over thirty minutes ago, yet you are still in the same suburb_.’

“It’s a very big suburb.” He grumbled, trying to decide which way to turn. A man waiting at a nearby bus stop gave him a funny look for talking to himself. Cloud ignored it.

 _'You lack even the will to ask for directions.’_ The deep voice was condescending and superior, even when coming from inside his own head.

“I don’t _need_ directions because I know where I am going.”

 _‘You will never escape this maze of your own construction.’_ Sephiroth declared imperiously.  ‘ _And Marlene will be so disappointed you couldn’t make it.’_

Now that was just uncalled for.

“Oh for planet's sake- Hey you! Yeah you, which way to…”

* * *

 

“It’s okay Tifa, I’ll make dinner. You deserve a night off.” Cloud directed her to the couch. She looked so tired and collapsed onto the soft cushions without further encouragement.

“Would you, Cloud?” She said, looking up at him adoringly. “Thanks so much. I’m looking forward to it already.” Cloud gave an awkward smile and shuffled off to the kitchen.

_‘You cannot cook.’_

“We’ll see about that.”

About twenty minutes later Cloud stared at the ingredients that had survived so far. The pot on the stove was cold and not going anywhere fast and he wasn’t entirely sure if the meat was fully defrosted or not and what he was supposed to do with it if it was.

“Uh…”

_‘We both know you don’t have it in you.’_

“It’s just spaghetti! Anyone can make spaghetti.”

 _‘Except for you Cloud. You can’t even make spaghetti.’_ The voice was chilling in its disappointment. Cloud ignored it in favour of throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

“Oh planet, why? Why is it so complicated?”

_‘This is how you treat the world you claim to cherish so much? You would subject them to such cruelty?’_

“It won’t be that bad! The water will start to boil soon.” He cast a glance at the pot of watery mess on the stove. The pasta sat cold and sticky in the water. Then he eyed the meat tray in the microwave. “And I’m pretty sure you can boil mince.”

‘ _You are a very disappointing puppet, Cloud.’_ If anything Sephiroth almost sounded ashamed. That was a first.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He replied, halting in his failed attempt at making dinner.

 _‘Everyone you love is about to die of food poisoning.’_  

* * *

 

“Come on,” Tifa said with an exasperated laugh, “Can’t you do better than that?”

“It’s true though.” Cloud said, kissing her neck and holding her close. “You are beautiful.”

Tifa sighed.

“Really, Cloud? That’s it?” She asked, sounding less amused and more unimpressed.

 _'She’s in for a very disappointing evening.'_ The voice commented idly.

“Shut up.” Cloud growled reflexively, not about to stand for having Sephiroth intrude on a moment like this. A second later he realised he had said it aloud when Tifa’s eyes opened wide.

“Tifa-” He desperately tried to cover up his slip but she interrupted him.

“Is that an order?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, I like the sound of that.” She purred, leaning in close to kiss him lightly, speaking against his lips. “You give the orders tonight.”

“Wait, but, I didn’t…”

“Upstairs.” She whispered, disentangling herself from his arms and slinking up to their room with a swing in her hips.

_‘Heh.’_

“I hate you so much.”

* * *

 

“That one?” Denzel asked, looking at the old poster in confusion.

“Oh yes, this one.” Cloud said, holding it up to the light to better appreciate the artistry of it.  “Nothing to say?” He asked in a quite aside to his own mind. There was a pointed lack of response. Cloud smiled.

“But Cloud, why do you want a picture of… of him?” Denzel asked, frowning at the framed poster. There were plenty of others available at the street market but none had caught Cloud’s interest like this one.

“Because, Denzel,” He said, crouching down to explain a great truth to his adopted son. “Even the most delusional, deranged people in this world might have once been something great-”

 _‘I didn’t know you cared.’_ The voice muttered bitterly.

“-And nothing honours the great man Sephiroth was quite like this picture.” He said, studying it again. It showed Sephiroth, in all his skinny seventeen year old glory of gangly limbs, all knees and elbows, with a long silver pony tail caught on the hinges of a playground swing and yanking him back while a boy with red hair laughed at him. The photo had been so perfectly timed that he was caught forever tumbling halfway to the ground a look of pained surprise clear on his face. There was a large tuft of silver hair yanked straight out and flowing majestically in the breeze. It was a thing of beauty.

“I think I’ll hang it in my office.” Cloud declared.

_'Your death will be the most painful.’_

“Do you have any others?” He asked the girl manning the booth with a cheery smile. She pulled out a whole box. “Perfect. I’ll have one of each.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind someone was sulking.


	2. Chapter 2

_'_ _Of course, I am a better chocobo rider than you,'_ Sephiroth declared in the back of Cloud's mind.

"You are not," Cloud snorted. "I'm great with chocobos." He was washing the dishes while the kids finished their homework in the living room.

_'_ _Your achievements are nothing more than a shadow of my own.'_

"You're too tall to be a good jockey. Well, you _were_ ," he smiled, "when you still had a body."

Sephiroth's irritation spiked, as it always did when Cloud brought that up.

_'_ _I have transcended.'_

"Uh-huh." Cloud focused on scrubbing a casserole dish.

"Are you talking to someone, Cloud?"

He spun around. Marlene was standing in the door of the kitchen, holding an empty mug and watching him with a confused smile.

"No," he said.

_'_ _Yes.'_

"I am not," he said firmly.

She skipped to the sink, placing her mug next to it. She looked up at him with a smile. "It's okay if you are. I won't tell anyone. I used to have imaginary friends too."

He cringed. "I don't have imaginary friends."

' _Don't you?'_

"Of course not," he snapped.

Marlene giggled. He pinched the bridge of his nose and got suds on his face.

"Okay." She patted his arm as she walked past. "Let me know if you want to introduce them to me."

_'_ _She'd be better company at least.'_

"Shut up," he mumbled, turning back to the pile of dishes. At least the crockery didn't talk back.

* * *

"You see, Cloud, we're not that different in the end," Rufus Shinra said, sitting in his high backed wheelchair and steepling his fingers before him.

Cloud barely refrained from growling in response. The pretentious Shinra had called him here for who knew what. Instead of getting to the point, Rufus had insisted on playing a game of chess, because he was an idiot.

Cloud barely had the patience for it but had been sucked into the game anyway. The idea of beating Rufus was a tempting one. The only problem: he wasn't very good at chess.

Rufus took another of Cloud's pawns, and looked far too smug about it. Cloud reached for the board, then retracted his hand. In a sword fight he wouldn't have hesitated, but this calm strategy without physical effort threw him off balance. He wasn't a tactician; he was a deliveryman, for planet's sake.

He moved his queen. Rufus promptly took it.

Losing to Rufus was humiliating, but he knew he was out of his depth. He was about to walk out; this was a waste of time.

_'_ _Move the bishop to D6,'_ Sephiroth's voice slithered through his mind.

Cloud paused. He looked at the board. Rufus watched him like a hawk, giving him that infuriating smug smile.

In a move Cloud had promised himself he would never, under any circumstances, make, he followed the whispered instructions. He took Rufus' knight.

Rufus looked at him in surprise.

_'_ _Good little puppet_.' Sephiroth sounded as surprised as he was pleased.

"I can still throw the match," Cloud murmured under his breath. Sephiroth grumbled about ingratitude.

Rufus must have overheard because he raised an eyebrow. "Don't hold back for my sake." He leaned forward and made his own move.

Cloud sat hunched in his chair. He still didn't know what he was doing. Rufus' queen looked exposed and he smile was still smug.

_'_ _Ignore the queen, take his rook.'_

Rude and Reno flanked Rufus, the three of them all watching Cloud for his next move.

' _You are not in charge here_ ,' Cloud thought at Sephiroth.

_'_ _No, the Shinra is.'_ Sephiroth's voice curled around him like a wisp of smoke, a caustic wisp of smoke that oozed bitterness at the idea of losing to Rufus. _'You cannot compete against him; you don't know a King's Gambit from a Troitsky Line.'_ Nothing on Gaia would get Cloud to admit he had no idea what Sephiroth was talking about.

He looked down, knowing his opponent was waiting eagerly for his move.

He took the rook.

Twenty minutes later Cloud strolled out of the office, ignoring the smug presence in the back of his mind and leaving an embarrassed and baffled Rufus staring at his cornered king.

* * *

"I think we've forgotten something," Tifa said, carting a small airport bag up the escalator

Sephiroth hummed in the back of his mind.

"What is it?" Cloud asked.

Tifa looked at him over her shoulder, "I wouldn't have forgotten it if I knew what it was."

He was hauling two carry-on bags, one for himself and a second for Tifa, both of which were filled with Tifa's things. He liked to travel light; she liked to be prepared.

"Did you pack your gloves?" he asked.

"Yes. Did you lock the garage?"

He nodded. "You've got the tickets?"

"We're already checked in our luggage, of course we have the tickets."

"I can't think of anything else." He shrugged.

It felt like Sephiroth was about to say something, but the silence in the back of his mind went undisturbed.

"Elymra will pick up Marlene and Denzel from school," she said, walking with determination and her eyes flicking between terminal numbers. "Barret's taking care of the Sir Pounce-A-Lot, and I definitely locked the front door." She paused, her eyebrows scrunched up in thought. "You made breakfast, then I did the dishes, and we both packed. What else is there?"

The overhead speakers announced their plane was boarding.

"Too late now, whatever it is," Tifa sighed.

"I'm sure it's nothing." Cloud led the way through the crowds to their terminal.

It wasn't until they were both sitting squished into the seats with the plane taxiing down the runway that Sephiroth spoke.

_'_ _You left the gas on.'_

Cloud's face fell into his hands.

* * *

Cloud sat next to Vincent on a pile of debris. The ruins of Midgar stretched out before them.

_'_ _Pathetic creature,'_ Sephiroth hissed with unusual vehemence.

Vincent looked startled.

"What?" Cloud asked.

Vincent shook his head, looking confused. "It was nothing."

There was a comfortable silence for moment.

_'_ _You are but a puppet to the planet; you know nothing of me.'_

Cloud had grown used to ignoring Sephiroth's moods, but he had the weirdest feeling that Sephiroth wasn't actually talking to him.

Vincent twitched and his brow pulled down into a heavy frown. His mouth opened and then closed again.

_'_ _Mindless beast, your taunts are wasted,'_

"What are you doing?" Vincent asked quietly.

"I'm not doing anything," Cloud said, giving him a strange look. He wasn't even sure who Vincent was speaking to.

"Neither am I," Vincent replied, looking disturbed. "Chaos… has taken a dislike to you."

_'_ _You know nothing,'_ Sephiroth spat.

Cloud cleared his throat and stood. "See you around."

Vincent nodded and swiftly left.

"What was that about?" Cloud asked the presence in his mind.

_'_ _Mako drenched dullard,'_ he groused.

Cloud shook his head. He was perfectly happy not understanding Sephiroth.

* * *

Golden sunlight streaked through the garage windows. Old tunes crooned from the radio, and Cloud was polishing the fusion sword. It was a calming activity. Sephiroth appeared to agree because he shut up for once.

Denzel watched, eyeing the various pieces. His hand reached for the nearest blade, a single-edged short sword, but he drew his fingers back into a fist before he could touch it. He hung his head.

"You can touch it if you want," Cloud said. "Just be careful of the sharp edge."

His fingers gently brushed the metal.

"Can you teach me?" he asked, turning to look up at Cloud.

Cloud paused. He had never taught anyone anything before. Could he do it?

_'_ _I doubt it.'_

"Of course I can."

Fifteen minutes later they were in the small backyard. Cloud held a short double-edged sword and Denzel a light wooden version. Denzel's enthusiasm quickly turned into nervousness. He held the sword clumsily, but they had only just started—there was plenty of time. Cloud had vague memories of being equally bad back in his trooper days.

"Right foot forward," Cloud said, going through the stances. "No, wait. Yes, right foot."

The problem with skills he had inherited as opposed to actually studied was the theory could be a little fuzzy. A lot of it was instinct.

"Other foot," he said when Denzel didn't move to copy him.

"Oh, sorry," Denzel said, lowering the sword and shuffling about on his feet. His stance looked uncomfortable.

"What's is it?" Cloud couldn't see anything obviously wrong, but it didn't look right.

_'_ _He's left handed, you inept excuse for a swordsman.'_

"No, he isn't." He had seen Denzel do his homework many times. He would have noticed.

_'_ _Of course he is. Look at his footing!'_

It did look off. He lowered his own sword.

"Denzel, are you left-handed?"

"No!" Panic flooded his eyes, and he held the wooden sword tighter in his right hand. "I don't write with my left hand. My teachers said I'm not supposed to."

"Why not?" Cloud asked with a frown.

Denzel hung his head.

"Because… _he_ was left-handed. It's bad."

Cloud didn't know what to say. He saw the shame in his son's eyes as he held his left hand behind his back.

_'_ _The fools,'_ Sephiroth hissed, his voice dripping scorn.

Irrational fear he could understand, but telling a child he was evil because of which hand he used? How dare they!

_'_ _And you didn't even notice_ _.'_

It never came up—except, that wasn't strictly true. Three years of reports, all citing bad handwriting and slow work. Yet it had never occurred to them.

_'_ _Congratulations.'_ Sephiroth said with disgust. _'You are a more negligent parent than Hojo_ _.'_

Cloud winced. That hurt more than any stab wound.

Denzel was looking up at him with slumped shoulders, trying to make himself smaller. Cloud knelt, putting one hand on his shoulder.

"There is nothing wrong with being left-handed," he said, trying to catch Denzel's eyes.

"Are you sure?" Denzel peeked up at him through his messy fringe.

"Definitely."

He felt Sephiroth nod in agreement in the back of his mind.

Denzel swallowed thickly, and Cloud pushed back his fringe. "And I'm still going to teach you how to use a sword."

The boy hugged him.

"Thank you," he mumbled into his shirt.

Afterwards, when Denzel had collected himself and Cloud had a firmer grasp of the situation, he put the sword in the boy's left hand.

"Hold it like this." He adjusted Denzel's hand. "Not so close to the hilt."

_'_ _Not such a firm grip either.'_

"Looser. That's better."

Denzel held the wooden sword and beamed up at him.

"Left foot forward," Cloud said.

* * *

"Let's go!" Tifa called from the curb, one foot already in the taxi. "If we're late because of you again, so help me!"

"I'm coming," Cloud called, running through the house. He grabbed a shirt from the back of a chair and another from the end of his bed and shoved it in his pack. Two shirts would have to do. He threw his wallet and keys in, as well, and ran for the door. He leapt the banister, then flew out the front door and locked it behind him.

_'_ _You left the gas on again.'_

He swore and charged back inside again.

"Cloud!" Tifa yelled.

"Be right back," he mumbled over his shoulder, sprinting up the staircase. _Why were there so many stairs in this house?_

He rounded the corner to the kitchen and reached for the stove—

It was already off.

Sephiroth laughed, deep and condescending.

"You bastard."

"Leaving without you!" Tifa called.

"Wait!" He sprinted back out again.


End file.
